


Things That Never Happened: Licia

by wheel_pen



Series: Alice [40]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Naughtiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of Alice series. Two children were found in Smallville after the meteor shower, and adopted by two different families. This story is unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Never Happened: Licia

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Alice, my original female character, is new in Smallville. There is something special about her, and she and Clark form a relationship.
> 
> 2\. This series starts after the end of the second season—after the destruction of the spaceship and Clark abruptly leaving town.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This story may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            “Lana, have you seen my yellow sweatshirt with the cats on it?”

            The fifteen-year-old brunette rolled her eyes and didn’t turn from the full-length mirror, where she was contemplating the fuzzy blue sweater she held before her. “No, I haven’t,” she replied with some irritation. “Why would you think I had?”

            The tall, dark-haired girl in the doorway scuffed uncomfortably at the carpet beneath her socked feet. “I dunno...” she shrugged. Lana sighed dramatically. “It’s just...”

            “What?”

            The other girl screwed up her courage. “I thought I saw you wearing it yesterday.”

            Lana turned on one small, graceful foot and glared at the taller girl until she shrank back, eyes dropping guiltily to the carpet. “Why would I wear _your_ clothes, Licia?” she demanded snidely. “They’re about three sizes too big for me.”

            Licia’s cheeks colored instantly and she self-consciously tugged at the baggy t‑shirt she wore. “I just—I just thought I saw you wearing it, that’s all,” she replied in a small voice.

            “Which one was it again?” Lana asked with a long-suffering sigh.

            “The yellow one,” Licia answered, barely audible. “With the cats.”

            “Oh. That one.” Laying the blue sweater carefully across the bedspread, Lana went to the wicker clothes hamper near her closet and opened it. After some inspection she pulled out the second item from the top and tossed it at her sister, then moved back to the bed to finish dressing for the day.

            Sending a dark glance at the other girl behind her back, Licia straightened the crumpled sweatshirt and looked it over. “What are all these smudges?” she asked heatedly, holding it up.

            “They’re _dirt_ ,” Lana told her, as if it should be obvious. “Whitney was _filthy_ after football practice yesterday and I needed to protect my sweater while we were out.”

            “So you got _my_ clothes dirty instead?”

            Lana smoothed the blue sweater down over her perfect chestnut hair, then faced her sister with laser-like brown eyes. “Your sweatshirt will _wash_ ,” Lana informed her snottily. “My sweater was dry-clean only.” And that was all the justification in the world.

            Licia’s lips tightened in anger. Lana raised a sculpted eyebrow, almost challengingly. “You know I don’t like you going in my room,” the dark-haired girl finally said tensely.

            “I _needed_ it.” Lana crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you getting so upset about? It’s just a stupid sweatshirt.”

            “It’s _my_ stupid sweatshirt,” Licia shot back angrily, taking a step into the room. Lana’s eyes widened and she pulled back. “You _know_ I don’t like you taking my things!”

            “Lana! Licia! Whitney’s here!”

            A look of relief crossed Lana’s face as she saw her sister rein herself in. Then she had an idea and turned quickly to the jewelry box on her dressing table. Digging to the bottom of it she pulled out a small grey metal box and snapped it open, revealing a gold necklace with an unusual green stone fixed to it. Back to the door she secured the clasp around her neck and watched in the mirror as her sister grimaced suddenly, face going pale. Lana turned triumphantly, displaying the jewelry.

            “I think I’ll wear Aunt Nell’s necklace to school today,” she announced proudly, moving slowly towards Licia, who was rapidly backing away.

            “That’s not _fair_ , Lana,” Licia protested, looking sick. She was out in the hall now, pressed against the opposite wall. “Mom won’t let you!”

            “Mom isn’t going to see it,” Lana assured her flippantly, yanking a suede jacket from the back of her chair and tugging it on. The collar neatly covered the necklace from view but did nothing to diminish its effect on Licia, who looked like she was going to vomit any second. Lana hoped she didn’t puke on _her_ rug. “I do _so_ miss Aunt Nell,” she went on insincerely, picking up her bookbag from the corner. “Wearing this little rock reminds me of her, you know.”

            Licia glared at her viciously from the corner of the hall she’d pressed herself into. “You were only three when she died, how much can you _possibly_ remember?” she insisted through clenched teeth.

            Lana whipped around to face her, hair floating stylishly behind her. “I remember her a _lot_ better than you do, since she’s not even your _real_ aunt,” she hissed. She straightened, smoothing her hair and sweater back down, then headed for the stairs. “I have cheerleading practice after school today. Don’t bother me when you’re done with your silly art club.”

            Lana flounced down the stairs and met her mother at the bottom. Smiling brightly, Lana kissed her mother good-bye and opened the front door. “Lana, where’s your sister?” Laura Lang asked in confusion, looking around.

            “It’s such a nice day, Licia said she wanted to walk,” Lana lied sweetly, slipping out onto the porch.

            “Oh. Okay, dear,” her mother replied. “Have a nice day at school!”

            Waving, Lana climbed into Whitney’s waiting truck. He gave a parent-friendly wave and smile to Mrs. Lang while asking, “Where’s your sis?”

            “Just drive,” Lana told him in irritation. Knowing what was good for him, Whitney hit the gas.

 

            With superspeed Licia beat her sister to school, but she holed herself away in the art room, sketching furiously in the few minutes she had to spare before classes began. She was concentrating so much on her work she didn’t even hear the dark-haired teenager coming up behind her until he spoke.

            “What’re you working on today?” Licia jumped in surprise but fortunately avoided ruining her drawing. Justin held up his hands placatingly and smiled. “Sorry, sorry, Leesh, didn’t mean to startle you.” He leaned over her shoulder, peering at the charcoal-drawn image. “Had another fight with your sister this morning?” he asked rhetorically, noting the harsh lines and spiteful expression on the face of the Lana Licia had created.

            “How could you tell?” Licia sighed, staring at the picture. She didn’t exactly feel _happier_ , having made the drawing, but at least she felt like she had let her frustrations _out_ a little bit. “She just—really makes me—“ Licia wasn’t very good at articulating how she felt about things—she was always afraid she was going to say something she shouldn’t—and of course she didn’t dare do anything _physical_ , like throwing something, which was why drawing had become so therapeutic for her. “She’s wearing that stupid, morbid necklace made from the meteor that killed Aunt Nell, and—she said she wasn’t my _real_ aunt.”

            Justin shook his head in sympathy. He’d heard every variation of Licia’s complaints about her sister over the years, even seen a number of them with his own eyes, and he had yet to find any suggestions that were actually helpful. His brother was away at college; they were really too far apart in age to have bothered each other much anyway, growing up. Licia and Lana, however, were almost the same age, but of decidedly different personalities. Sometimes he thought the only thing they had in common was that they both brought out the worst in each other.

            Licia tucked the drawing carefully into her portfolio and locked it in the drawer of her desk. She always kept them, even the mean ones, and she could tell what kind of fight it had been just by looking at the style. Not all of her sketches of her sister were angry, of course; there were some truly lovely ones, when Lana had been unexpectedly nice to her, but lately it seemed like those were becoming fewer and farther between. Wanting to think about something, anything else, she turned to her friend and asked, “So what have you been up to? Got the next edition of the _Flaming Crow’s Feet_ ready?”

            Justin held up his small portfolio with a grin. “Right here,” he assured her. “I was just going over to the _Torch_ to hand it in to Chloe. Wanna come?”

            “And ruin your precious fifteen seconds of ‘alone time’ with the spunky editor?” Licia teased. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

            Justin’s cheeks colored a little bit. “It’s not—‘alone time,’” he protested. “I’m just—handing in the cartoon, is all.” Licia raised a dark eyebrow. “And maybe I’ll get a chance to ask her to the Homecoming Dance.”

            Licia grinned at him. “Are you really going to ask her?” she questioned hopefully. Justin had had a crush on Chloe Sullivan since she’d moved to Smallville in eighth grade, but aside from the regular art contribution to whatever school newspaper Chloe was running, he’d never made a move. _Can’t wait forever, J,_ Licia was always telling him. _Maybe I can wait until junior year,_ he always replied fretfully.

            Justin’s expression became slightly pained. “Mmmmm... maybe,” he finally answered. Licia narrowed her eyes at him. “If I can get her alone. Away from Clark.”

            “Clark Kent only has eyes for Lana Lang,” Licia recited, as she had many times before. “Chloe Sullivan only has eyes for Clark Kent. Justin Gaines only has eyes for Chloe Sullivan. Now if only Lana were lusting after Chloe, we’d have a perfect circle.”

            “Hey, you don’t want me to have _that_ kind of imagery in my mind,” Justin laughed, heading for the door. “I gotta go turn this in, so... See you later.”

            “See ya.” Glancing at the clock, Licia decided she could show up for algebra a little early today and gathered her books. Instead of walking through several turns of the hallway to get from the secluded art room to her class, however, Licia took a shortcut that brought her outside the school building into the sunny early-fall weather. Once there she realized that Justin’s trip to the _Torch_ offices would be in vain; Chloe Sullivan was standing outside, with another guy, Pete or Paul or something, and both of them were watching in keen anticipation as Clark Kent approached an oblivious Lana. Licia knew what they were waiting for, and against her better judgment she had to stop and watch as well. Sure enough, Clark didn’t get within five feet of Lana before he tripped, or something, sending all the books in his arms flying across the ground.

            Chloe was taking some cash from Pete; no doubt they’d placed a bet on how long it would take their friend to make a complete idiot of himself in front of Licia’s sister. She would have called it mean, except she was almost _glad_ Clark was that klutzy; it made Licia feel like _she_ wasn’t the only one who dorked out around Lana, necklace or no necklace. And, well, she didn’t really have a _crush_ on Clark—he had enough of those swirling around him, especially the unrequited kinds—but she had _noticed_ him before. He was really pretty cute—dark hair, beautiful green eyes, megawatt smile. But he was shy, too, and passed himself off as not being very interesting or remarkable, which she just had a feeling wasn’t quite true.

            Clark wasn’t older like Whitney, he wasn’t on the football team like Whitney, and he hung out on his family farm working instead of going to the cool parties like Whitney... which was probably why Lana was dating Whitney and _not_ Clark. But Licia had a feeling Lana liked having Clark around as her “back-up boyfriend,” in case things with Whitney didn’t work out. Or for when Whitney graduated and left for college next year. Licia could tell by the way her sister smiled at Clark and helped him with his books that she was still stringing him along a little—if Licia, or anyone else Lana couldn’t care less about, had fallen on their face right in front of her, Lana would barely have glanced up from her make-up mirror.

            “Nietzsche. Didn’t realize you had a dark side, Clark,” Lana was saying flirtatiously, leaning over just enough to give the teenage boy a good glimpse of her cleavage down the front of that blue sweater, her green necklace dangling enticingly.

            “Doesn’t everybody?” he replied, although the whole smooth reply thing wasn’t really working too well since he looked like he was about to lose his lunch on her. Now _that_ might be enough to turn Lana against him for good.

            “Yeah, I guess so,” Lana agreed, although Licia could tell from her tone she had no idea what he was talking about. “So what are you? Man or superman?” Lana could, at least, remember a tiny bit of what Licia had told her about Nietzsche a few months ago.

            “I haven’t figured it out yet,” Clark admitted.

            Just then, a shadow fell across the two of them—Whitney, of course. Licia thought he must have some kind of Lana radar—or maybe it was actually a _Clark_ radar, since the blond jock was always on hand to put a damper on whatever sparks the farmboy might be trying to ignite. “Lana, there you are.” Had he managed to lose her in the fifteen minutes they had been at school? Licia wondered snidely.

            Lana stood and smiled at him, kissing Whitney like they hadn’t just driven to school together. _Rub a little more salt into that wound,_ Licia thought, watching Clark’s pained expression. Of course Whitney had a favor to ask of Lana: once again he hadn’t started on his English essay until the night before, and as a result had been reduced to whatever ramblings his brain had concocted at two in the morning. Could Lana just “check it over” and “help with the ending”? “Rewrite the entire thing” being what he _really_ meant.

            “I’m sure it’s great,” Lana told him sweetly, while Clark sat shakily on the fence, still looking like he’d eaten some bad shellfish. Licia had to wonder about that—alright, she was kind of grossed out by Lana and Whitney’s touchy-feely behavior sometimes, but she had never _literally_ wanted to vomit. But she also supposed she hadn’t had a yen for Lana since she was five years old, either, as she’d heard about Clark.

            “You forgot one, Clark,” Whitney was saying, picking up one last book from the ground. He tossed it to Clark, and Licia could see the disaster about to happen. Sure enough, Clark jerked to catch the paperback and ended up sprawled on the ground a second time, books scattered around him in an ungainly display. And then of course, the bell rang.

            Lana, Whitney, Chloe, Pete, and the rest of the amused onlookers hurried off to class, but Licia found herself further out in the yard, helping Clark scoop his things up yet again. “Oh, hi, Licia,” he greeted her distractedly, cheeks still flaming.

            Licia knew the only reason he could put a name to her face was because she was Lana’s sister, but that didn’t bother her too much. “Hey, Clark,” she replied, trying to sound cheerful. It wasn’t exactly a natural fit, given her mood, but she thought she owed it to a comrade in geekiness. “Here you go. You need a hand with those or anything?”

            Clark stood, balancing the books carefully. Oddly enough he didn’t act like they were too heavy, even though several were quite thick; Licia attributed it to his farm-honed muscles. “Um, no, I’m good, thanks,” he assured her. “Thanks, by the way. For...” He nodded at the books.

            “No problem,” Licia said, and this time her smile was more genuine. He was tall, too, which Licia appreciated—she towered six inches above her sister, who was moreover petite and delicate where Licia was, well, _athletically built_ , as their mother diplomatically put it. Clark was probably the same number of inches taller than Licia, she estimated, but his solid presence made her feel much less like a clumsy ox and more like... a normal person.

            “Um, well...” Clark gestured towards the building. “I gotta get to class now.”

            “Yeah, me too,” Licia replied, starting in the opposite direction. “See you around.”

            “Yeah, see ya.”


End file.
